Sarlin's Little Student
by Sarlinia-Grace-Starstriker
Summary: When the darkest time of her life drew to a close, Sarlin began mentoring children who aspired to be fighters, and one day, sat down and shared her exploits and emotions with a fellow Blood Elf. Syline, while young, was very understanding, and Sarlin felt a bond that rose higher than the ranks of a mentor merge with Syline's spirit. A conversation-type story, for once.


"Hey, Syline, get back here!" Sarlin Starstriker called after the rambunctious young Blood Elf.

Sarlin had taken to mentoring children who aspired to become soldiers at a young age, as she did. While she was still young herself, she knew how to fight, and she certainly did it good. Since she'd stepped out of the war, she instead trained kids only how to fight, instead of boosting their lust for their faction. This also meant she was a mentor to pre-soldiers from both the Alliance and the Horde, which greatly boosted her confidence and sated her eye for beauty; the territory of the Horde alone got to her sometimes…her homeland, Silvermoon, was beautiful and she had no quarry with the peaceful Thunder Bluff either…but places like this, like Orgrimmar and Tirisfal Glades…these were places she was sure to be wary of.

Syline was her latest student. A Blood Elf like her, she aspired to be a Farstrider when she was older, and wanted little to do with the Horde. However, she _did _appreciate their methods of fighting and wanted to learn to do it herself. Her father, Raldan, advised Sarlin greatly against fuelling Syline's bloodlust.

"I don't want her under the dark wing of Hellscream," he told Sarlin sternly. "She's one of us, not one of them,"

"Don't worry," Sarlin replied. "I hate that bastard, too,"

Syline looked nothing like a soldier, with her long blonde hair and her sun-kissed skin, but she was humorous and kind, and very determined. She demanded a trip to Orgrimmar, so she could see their fighting styles. Raldan and Sarlin both advised her against it.

"I've seen them fight out there, Syline," Sarlin said reasonably. "It's not a nice place for someone like you. You might even end up getting hurt,"

"You're staying here, Syl, and that's that. If I lost you, I'd have nothing," Raldan said.

Of course, Syline fought back…and won. Sarlin promised Raldan she'd watch over her dearly, but also said "I can't make any promises, Raldan. They're getting very vicious out there, and if Syline interferes…"

"I know," Raldan said. "Just…do the best you can. If anything happens to her, it won't be your fault…but please try and make sure nothing happens, will you?"

Sarlin promised and took Syline to Orgrimmar.

Now, watching her jump around the targets, tapping at them with her wooden sword, Sarlin felt a pang of regret. Syline was excited and anxious, and that wouldn't tie in too well with the Kor'Kron guards, who were bloody and violent. But after a while, she tired even herself out and came back to her mentor, who wasn't much taller than she was. They sat on a rocky wall and drank cold peppermint tea, Sarlin's favourite drink.

"I'm not exactly too fond of this place, Sar," she said. "The Kor'Kron are pretty…hungry. They seem hungry, anyway,"

Sarlin played with a strand of Syline's long, beautiful hair. "I don't like it here either, Syline. If anything, I avoid this place whenever I can. This is no home for the Sin'dorei,"

"Where do you actually belong, Sarlin? I mean, I know you were an Argent Crusader, but they're as good as gone now, and-"

"No they're not!" Sarlin spat back harshly, but Syline carried on as if she hadn't heard.

"-there isn't really much else to fight for but the Horde, by the looks of things,"

Sarlin exhaled. "As I've said, I'm a mentor. I teach my fighters how to fight, and that's that. My political views are my concern, and mine only. Do we have an understanding?"

Syline just sighed and said "I just asked you where you belonged…"

Sarlin looked at Syline, who looked grumped. Composing herself, she said "I'm sorry, sweetie. I just get asked that question a lot. I…I don't really belong anywhere. I don't have a home or a family, like you,"

Syline looked back at Sarlin. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Always, my dear. I'm always lonely. It's why I became a mentor. So I could be around people like you. You're the reason I'm here, and not fighting in Pandaria. It's…not worth fighting for,"

"You know that Anduin Wrynn is in Pandaria," Syline said.

Sarlin smiled at the name. She'd met the prince once and in fact mentored him on archery…but mostly, she liked to talk to him. She was also friendly with his father, Varian Wrynn, who she'd met first in Northrend, at the Argent Tournament. They talked mostly about how the war was affecting the Icecrown assaults greatly, and how he desired for the war to end with the Alliance bearing the flag, how Sarlin admitted to following the Alliance more than the Horde, but was afraid of the Night Elves because she'd in fact been kidnapped by a pair when she was younger, even though she was risen by a Night Elf who adopted her. They also talked about their families, Sarlin about Lydia, her Kal'dorei mother, Varian about his son, Anduin and his wife, Tiffin. How Varian was always so worried about Anduin's fate, how he longed for the presence of his wife, how Anduin longed for his mother. How Sarlin wanted nothing more than a future with Lydia, but lost her so cruelly. She was very fond of their family.

"And?" she replied in a dignified voice.

"Isn't he worth fighting for?" Syline said cheekily, finally showing her cocky teenager side.

Sarlin laughed. "Who have you been talking to, Syline?"

"Nobody. I just think he's handsome. I bet he gives good hugs…wait, what do you mean 'who have I been talking to'?" she asked suspiciously.

"I mentored him once. Once," Sarlin said, chuckling.

Syline burst into hysterical fits of laughter. "You love him, don't you? You love Anduin! You're an elf and you love the prince of the Alliance!"

Sarlin rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You know, I've mentored humans older than him. With dark black hair and dark brown eyes. I might put one of those on hold for you, since you've such a fetish for human princes,"

Syline managed to compose herself, and Sarlin felt relieved she was acting her age. She had a feeling that this girl had suffered every bit as much as she when she was the same age. She'd already lost her mother to the Scourge. That, in itself, would have an impact on her feelings. And, of course, the way she acted.

"How does it feel, jumping around everywhere, mentoring kids from both the Alliance and the Horde?" she asked.

Sarlin smiled. "Actually, it's wonderful. No limits, no restrictions. It's like living a dream. I can be anywhere I want and not, you know, get killed for it,"

"And you don't get any hassle from it? You know, from any of the leaders?"

Sarlin thought. "Not really. Only Hellscream, but that's no surprise. In fact, I'm sure my presence here is an illegality on my part. But as long as he doesn't know I'm here…I mean, my discretion knows no limits,"

Syline smiled cockily. "Yeah, you're not a giveaway at all, with that big scar and the white hair and the extravagant holy aura radiating from your beautiful little soul,"

Sarlin shook her head in amusement. "You're a beautiful girl, Syline, but sometimes you're a little too cheeky for my taste,"

"Ooh, I don't reach Sarlin Standards," she flipped back effortlessly.

"Syline, if I used my tongue like that-"

"You'd be grounded and have all your plush little cuddly lynxes taken off you?"

Sarlin threw her hands in the air in a hopeless expression. "I give up,"

Then they were both laughing madly, like children, as rightfully they both were. It felt strange, to be back in the body of that nervous, afraid little girl, laughing with someone taller, more beautiful but nowhere near as determined or courageous. Syline reminded her so much of Aylis Velane.

Aylis and she were best friends as children. Aylis was taller, probably older, and prettier, with flowing, blonde hair and shiny, pink lips. Sarlin was short and scruffy, with her fuzzy hair scraped into a braid and secured with one of Lydia's red ribbons, and was nearly always covered in bruises and scratches. While Aylis was older, smarter and less rash, Sarlin was adventurous and vigilant. She saved Aylis's life during a Scourge attack on Tranquillien one day, which left her with a nasty gash in the side. They were very close, and it helped that Aylis's mother, Emberyn, got along so well with Lydia Starstriker.

After Lydia's death, Sarlin's contact with Aylis was cut dramatically. She refused to let anyone help her (excepting her pet horse, Lilatha) but they were reunited in the end, shortly before Sarlin left for the Argent Dawn. Aylis stayed with the Horde, whereas Sarlin stepped out of it completely. Aylis was one of many soldiers at the Wrathgate. Shortly before she departed from Dalaran, she promised her doting mother that she'd be fine, and when she told Sarlin she'd be waiting for her on the other side, Sarlin's mere reply was "You'd better be,"

It was the last time Emberyn ever saw her daughter alive in mortal flesh. While the numbers of the Scourge fell dramatically in the collapsing of the Wrathgate, the appearance of the Lich King himself, sudden and deadly, brought the fall of many soldiers, including Emberyn's daughter. Aylis wasn't killed, merely paralyzed and captured. She was kept in Lana'Thel's bloody chambers, tortured until the pain drove her towards death and brought back as a vampiric knight when she finally died, so the torture could continue. She, unlike the rest of them, never bent. She remained, chained at a wall, enduring every wave of agony thrown upon her, with no intention of serving Arthas or his foul minions. No amount of pain inflicted on her could change that. However, when the assault for Icecrown began and she remained at Lana'Thel's mercy, being granted naught of it, she became more aware of her vampiric thirst with living soldiers charging through, so many injured and bleeding already. When Emberyn saw and approached her little girl, Aylis immediately went for the flowing gash on her arm, drinking the blood and delving for more, aware that this was her mother but unable to stop. Thankfully, Lana'Thel hadn't removed her bonds, so when Sarlin tore Emberyn away, Aylis could do nothing. Shortly before her own death, Lana'Thel shot an iced spike at Aylis, impaling her through the heart. As Lana'Thel died at the hands of the Argent Crusade, so too did Aylis's lust for blood and when Emberyn lifted her half off the floor, sitting there, whispering comforting words to her daughter, Aylis held her back just as tightly, her tainted fingers gripping the hardened armour across her mother's chest, where Emberyn's own hand rested. Sarlin had to press on, but gently kissed her icy forehead and squeezed her hand before she left, whispering "I'll always be with you, sister,"

As she left, leaving Aylis dying in the arms of her mother, she could've sworn she heard the words "I'll take care of Lydia," but so many screams flooded her mind, she could've been hearing anything.

There was little difference between that determined, pretty girl in the woods and the Blood Elf laughing hysterically beside her. She could only hope that Syline didn't have as agonizing a death as Aylis. Then again, few deaths could be worse. Aylis died twice, but thankfully had her mother by her side at her final. Emberyn was still lost without her daughter, and was drowning out her days with strong spirits. If Syline died, would Raldan be down the same path?

Feeling a sudden panic in the pit of her stomach, she realized she only ever contemplated the deaths of people who she felt were going to die soon, so she shook her head and focused on the conversation again.

"What are you thinking about?" Syline asked, taking the white strand of Sarlin's curly, black hair.

She shook her head lightly. "Just a friend,"

Syline looked her in the eye. "You can tell me. I know I'm young, but…I'm not really that much younger than you, am I?"

Sarlin smiled. "I don't even know how old I am. I lost my memory when I was younger, and I don't know who my real family are. But…yeah, I can't be more than three years older than you,"

Syline nodded understandably. "So, what are you thinking of? Your exploits?"

Sarlin nodded. "Just a friend I lost a while back, at the Wrathgate. Her name was Aylis. She…well, the Scourge got her,"

"Oh…I'm sorry," she said politely. "The Scourge got my mother. They didn't bring her back. We got to her before they could,"

"They brought Aylis back…but she died again. It was alright, though. Her mother was with her and she was…she was able to carry on. But it hurts talking about her,"

Syline nodded and changed the subject, plaiting the white streak of Sarlin's hair. "You…lost your memory when you were younger?"

Sarlin nodded reluctantly. "I don't know how I lost my memory. A Night Elf found me and adopted me. She was called Lydia. She became my mother, and I loved her so much. She thought there was a history to me, and there probably was. I mean, I've always had this strip of white hair and it always grows back in that same place. But I don't care. I don't want to know that history. I don't know what my name was. All I know now is that Lydia named me Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker and I'm sticking with it. It's who I am. I'm her daughter, and she's my Minn'da,"

Syline twisted the streak of hair. "Am I right in saying that Lydia's not alive anymore?" she asked softly.

Sarlin nodded, already feeling her eyes pricking. Determined not to cry, she said "She was an amazing woman…and she always will be,"

Syline picked up on Sarlin's hesitation. "My mother was the best person I've ever known. It hurts to lose someone you love, but it'll happen. I mean…it always does," she sighed and changed the topic. "So…Pandaria. What do you think of it?"

Sarlin smiled. "Truthfully? I've been everywhere, between mentoring kids from the Alliance and the Horde to taking up arms against Arthas in Northrend, but …Pandaria will be…different. The North brings only winter, but the South brings more than cold,"

"What does that mean?" Syline asked, with a genuine hint of curiosity in her light voice.

"I think there's both light and dark down there. I think there's peace and liberty, freedom and happiness. And I think that as soon as Hellscream's forces set foot there, the whole land will be a blood pit, a graveyard where no soul rests…I…there's no sense of war within the Pandaren that arrive here, Syline. It's like they beat it into them. I wonder how it truly is down in Pandaria. If there really is more than just sun and snow," Sarlin said.

"Mm hmm," Syline said, and there was no sarcasm dwindling in her voice. "I wonder…if fighting for the Horde is a bad idea. I mean, Garrosh seems…"

Sarlin shook her head, not wanting to dissuade nor persuade Syline from fighting for her faction.

"Evil," she finished, finishing the braid in her mentor's hair.

Sarlin merely nodded. "It's up to you, Syl. I'm here to train you, to make you a better fighter. What you chose to use that fighting for is your decision,"

"But you agree, don't you?" Syline pressed.

"Yes! Alright?" Sarlin snapped, sighing. "Look, the more I talk about this, the more trouble you're going to land us in. These Kor'Kron don't…they're not 'guards', Syline. They're agitators. Mess with them, and I promise you, it'll be the last thing you ever do,"

Syline shrugged. "My father taught me right from wrong, you know. If they do anything to hurt anyone else, I _will _get involved. Nothing can stop me,"

"Syline…" Sarlin began.

"Sarlin, they're hurting people, aren't they? How does it feel, standing by and watching, while someone you love is in pain? Have you ever done it before?"

Sarlin hesitated before answered. "I can't stand and watch. I'm like you, I'll always get involved. It's why I don't come here, because I'd be dead too quickly. It's…it's not…Syline, this is exactly why both I and your father advised you against this place. That…"Warchief" of yours will be overthrown eventually, but if an entire Alliance and a ninety-percent rebelling Horde don't have the power nor the courage to fire the arrow that'll pierce that close-to-impenetrable ass of his, I'm afraid a half-conscious ex-Crusader and a little elf in training don't stand a chance,"

Syline blinked. "Hi, my name's Syline, nice to meet you!"

Sarlin huffed. "It's how it is. Look, Garrosh Hellscream and I are 'acquainted'. I met him at the Argent Tournament. He's…worse than violent. He admits to killing children so they wouldn't grow to be traitors. No, he didn't just admit to it. He bragged about it, like it was some kind of honourable final blow,"

Syline looked down. "My father says he'll meet his folly at your hands. You're…pretty famous back home, actually,"

"For what? Is it that time I collapsed on guard outside Falconwing? How many times have I told them I wasn't drunk! Damn, they should try holding watch for two days and six hours alone, see how they feel after it! Honestly, the nerve of some-"

"Sarlin," Syline said. "No. It's not about that. I haven't even heard…jeez, Sarlin!"

Sarlin giggled, remembering the haze of drugs she awoke to after she passed out, sore and exhausted, at the gates of Falconwing at a devastating Farstrider watch. She'd almost died from contracting some strange disease, combined with the overwhelming tiredness and other wounds, and was treated with strong sleeping potions because she woke up so often, screaming in pain and with the nightmares. However, the way she'd staggered, bloody and on her knees, to the Falconwing inn, was shaky enough for some genius to label her a drunkard on her way back from a Hallows End party. In the later years, it almost became true.

"So, how am I famous back home?" Sarlin asked.

"You fought Arthas. Apparently you were struck with Frostmourne. Do you have a scar?"

Sarlin smiled and gently uncovered the leather that concealed the five-inch long, four-inch thick scar that was black, pink, blue and still seemed to smoulder with Frostmourne's final breath. All at once, she felt the agony that rained upon her, recalled almost dying of the loss of blood, almost fainting through the pain, how it just didn't seem legitimate compared with Aylis's treacherous end, compared with the smouldering body that hung in chains above her…

Syline touched it and Sarlin shuddered. "Nice…how did you survive?"

"I didn't. I would've died anyway. You…you don't know what happened atop the spire, do you?" Sarlin said.

"Hmm…my father's friend, Ember, was there. Ember Velane? She didn't fight Arthas but she said that he killed everyone. Like, everybody atop the spire died. So…"

Sarlin sighed softly. "Emberyn Velane is Aylis's mother. And she's right," "

"That explains why she's always so depressed…so you've died? How did it feel? Unless…unless you'd rather not talk about it…"

"It was agonizing. Frozen in time, forced to watch, to die the most horrific death possible, forced to suffer without voices to scream or lungs to breathe with, forced to endure the strongest tortures he thought to inflict on us, forced to watch ourselves turn to one of his, to feel our minds torn, our bodies deteriorate, our spirits slowly turn from Light to Dark...forced to be the ones that would destroy Azeroth, that would kill Tirion, that would…that would become all they swore to defeat!" Sarlin shuddered, recalling the icy mist ensnaring her and forcing the breath and mercy from her throat. "You don't know how that feels, Syline. You never will. I can promise you, if I wasn't so afraid of death, I'd have died a long time ago,"

Syline didn't waver. The curiosity still burned in her eyes. "How did you…you know, stay sane?"

Sarlin scoffed. "I didn't, for a while. I began drinking and…between us, I became a Thistlehead. Most days, I just drugged myself out of living. Wherever I went, I wasn't happy. I…I attempted death three times. Three times I was saved. Made me feel worth something, at the least,"

"Maybe it just means you're meant for something. Maybe you have a future written for you," Syline said.

"Tirion said I was different," Sarlin recalled. "That there was a certain fire in my heart that was too dim to notice in the others. Something made of honour, rather than pride,"

"Maybe this is your destiny," Syline inputted, gesturing to herself. "Mentoring kids like me,"

"Yeah, annoying little droopy-eared kittens who asked way too many questions," Sarlin said, chuckling.

Syline laughed, poking her tummy. "I do know that you suffered more at my age than I am now. You were all alone. I mean, Mother's gone but I still have Father. I adore how you've endured all this without…you know, going crazy,"

Sarlin smiled softly. "Like I said, I was close to madness once, hatchling. Very close. It felt like hanging on the edge of a cliff, with nothing but darkness below me. My fingers were so tightly closed around the rocks to stop me from falling, I screamed and cried for somebody to hear me and pull me back. But nobody came. I had to climb back myself. That's…that's an integral part of my journey, I think. Spending so much time alone made me realize how much I need people. It also made me realize how long I can carry on without them. I can never achieve much, granted…but I can survive," Sarlin exhaled, watched the breath from her lips lift a strand of her outgrown fringe from her face. "Why do you ask me this, Syline?"

She smiled softly. "I want to be like you, Sarlin,"

Sarlin laughed. "No, Syl. This isn't the kind of life you-"

"I don't want your history. I don't want your pain, or your hunger. I don't want your loneliness or your lack of will to carry on. I just want your spirit and your faith. Your endurance, your loyalty…I want to be everything that's carried you to this point. Minus the Thistleweed, of course…"

"Between us," Sarlin warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Syline said.

She looked at Sarlin and gently placed a tentative finger on the scar on her face. Sarlin shuddered and purred at the contact.

"I don't exactly think scars are something to boast about, but…I wouldn't mind having one like this," she said, grinning.

Sarlin smiled, pressing Syline's hand to her face with one of hers. "There's not much of a story behind this one. I was unconscious for most of it, unconscious or just too numb with grief to remember. It was when Lydia died. Just after. I saw her die, and…even though I knew she was gone, I still tried to wake her up. I guess when the flow of grief is so fresh, there's no room for any other pain. All I remember was a sharp stab, like I was being lifted in the air or something, and then two Night Elves were carrying me back to the camp in Ashenvale. That's…that's where she died. It's…complicated," she sighed as her eyes filled with tears, recalling the peaceful, lifeless look on her mother's face.

Syline smiled softly. "You said there wasn't much of a story behind it!"

Sarlin smiled and blinked, allowing the tears to fall. "Behind the scar, no. Like I said, I felt a stab and then I was being carried back to camp. There was…a lot of blood. They were frantic, thought I was going to die. I didn't care. I had one thing on my mind. Lydia,"

Syline wiped away her tears. "I know how it feels. I'd tell you about Mother but…it hurts to talk about her,"

Sarlin nodded. "I understand. You…you really understand me, don't you?"

Syline smiled. "We're not all that different, Starstriker,"

Sarlin nodded. "No, we're not. We'll make a fine warrior out of you,"

"Father says I'm fiercely loyal to those who suffer. Are you the same?"

"Yes. It's my fatal flaw. Lydia said she was sure I was going to die through it," Sarlin confided.

"I haven't thought about how I'd die. I guess when you've already died it means more to you…" Syline said.

Sarlin sighed. "A little. Look, Syline, if there was no war on this land, you wouldn't have to ask these questions. We'd only die once, and that'd be the last significant act about us. Instead, I've died once, knew someone who's died twice…I mean, why is war all about death!?"

Syline giggled at her sudden temper. "Father said death's a side-effect of war,"

"You know, an old, supposedly 'wise' orc said that to me once, too. But he's wrong," Sarlin spat.

Syline nodded. "I know. Unless you're immortal,"

Sarlin grinned. "We really are _not _all that different, are we?" she ran a sharp, red nail across her lips. "No, death isn't a side-effect of war. It's a side-effect of living. Unless you're immortal, which so few of us are, now,"

"Do you think it'll end, Sarlinia-Grace? The war?"

Sarlin's ear twitched and she stared coldly at Syline, but the little blonde elf looked genuine and in no way mocking. Sarlin hated her full name, despite being named after Lydia's fallen sister, Grace. For the first time since Lydia's death, she didn't retaliate when someone said it.

"The war? Yes. I do. It will end. It has to end. All wars end eventually. But who knows what will be left of Azeroth when it does? Maybe the earth will collapse into the sea. Maybe the Highborne will return in their foulest, most deadly state. Maybe the eternal sun shall continue to guide the ashes of our people, as it guides the spirits of our ancestors. Maybe this world will cease to be. Whether the Alliance or Horde takes the flag of mercy, what land will be left to absorb? What stars shall remain visible to the eternally fel-corrupted eyes of the Sin'dorei? It will end…at such a cost…but it will end,"

And for the first time, Syline's eyes filled with tears and she gently reached for the black pendant around Sarlin's neck. "You'll live to see it, Sarlin. I just know you will,"

"Don't make any assumptions, my dear," Sarlin warned.

"It's the truth. You're stronger than the rest of them. Small, cocky, a little unstable, but…still stronger. You want the hatred to go away. You want to carry on around the world forever, without fear of trespassing or getting someone hurt…you want a family. You want this necklace to still be around Lydia's neck…"

A tear fell from her eye and Sarlin wiped it away, taking her hand. "We're meant to be training, little lynx,"

"Hmm…I want hot chocolate. And ice-cream,"

Sarlin smiled and slid down from the wall. "Let's go get some,"


End file.
